


The Loneliest Road

by omaidoggo



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Angst, Car Accidents, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Korean-American Character, M/M, Not Beta Read, Racism, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaidoggo/pseuds/omaidoggo
Summary: Tucked away along the Loneliest Road in America is a small town with gravel roads, a ramshackle diner, and a single gas pump for the few drivers and even fewer residents to share. The town’s seen no shortage of odd folk dipping in and out — whether it’s for a minute, an hour, a day, no one stays long. Stay any longer than that and, well, you’re just stuck.Geonhak was one of the stuck ones.A story about roads, roots, and eventually asking for help.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo & Kim Youngjo | Ravn, Kim Geonhak | Leedo & Lee Seoho, Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	The Loneliest Road

**Author's Note:**

> hi  
> i know, i should be working on the valhalla academy au or doing homework but my brain farted over the weekend and we're left with this 10k word monstrosity based on a rest stop my family stopped at while road tripping. i hope someone finds some comfort in all these messy feelings. there's a bit of a child-of-an-immigrant experience moment, but i hope you can relate to it even if you're not, well, a child of an immigrant.  
> thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

Tucked away along the Loneliest Road in America is a small town with gravel roads, a ramshackle diner, and a single gas pump for the few drivers and even fewer residents to share. The town’s seen no shortage of odd folk dipping in and out — whether it’s for a minute, an hour, a day, no one stays long. Stay any longer than that and, well, you’re just stuck.

Geonhak was one of the stuck ones. Had been stuck since graduating college, working out here in the creaky old diner that was once a creaky old saloon for a creaky old roof over his head. Beat living out on the streets — that’s for sure — but life sure was dull. Even the odd folk couldn’t fix that.

His day consisted of coming down from the diner’s attic, which the owner had given him for room and board, going behind the old, red, splintering counter, and wiping down the same stain that’d been there since he arrived a year ago. At 3 p.m., he’d take his break, pull up his laptop to try and find some jobs back in the city. The Wi-Fi wasn’t exactly the most stable thing out in the middle of nowhere, and 3 p.m. happened to be when it worked best for no apparent reason. After about an hour of refreshing his emails or refreshing the job search sites, the Wi-Fi would suddenly cut out, and he’d go back to scrubbing the stain until the night, when all the townsfolk came back from their various jobs up and down the road, mighty starved for dinner. When all was said and done, Geonhak returned to the attic, guiltily checked his texts he knew he’d never reply to — what with his limited texting plan — and went to sleep.

So it was a regular, summer day in Nevada, when the sun would chap your lips and burn your skin if you so much as looked at it, and the ceiling fan threatened to spin off the rickety, wood holding it in place. (They kept the tables out of the blast zone, just in case.) Geonhak was taking his break, and, as usual, had his laptop out on top of the un-scrubbable stain, waiting for the internet to do its job and  _ load the damn website _ .

“Still looking for a job in the city?”

“Yeah,” Geonhak grunted, clicking the refresh button for the umpteenth time. “Unlike you, Kim Youngjo, I plan to get outta this place eventually.”

“Woah, goin’ full Korean huh?” Youngjo leaned over the counter, his face cupped in his hands and that big, greasy smile on his face. “I love you too, Geonhak.”

Geonhak rolled his eyes.

“Another reason I wanna get out.”

Youngjo was the owner’s son, adopted and brought to the U.S. when he was nine. The locals called him Jo, but for whatever reason Youngjo had entrusted Geonhak with his name back from childhood. Maybe it was because there weren’t very many Asians out here, maybe it was because he was just cheesy, but anyway, Geonhak had taken to calling him Youngjo, Kim Youngjo if he was annoying enough. He had been the first person he met in town, a man two years older than him, and was the one who had hired him, without exactly telling his parents of course.

_ “I’m gonna be the owner anyway, so it’s no big deal,”  _ he had said. Geonhak was still surprised his parents didn’t strangle him for suddenly thrusting another financial liability onto them, but hey, at least it meant he had a place to stay.

“Hey, look at this.” Youngjo passed Geonhak his sketchbook. Scribbled onto the paper was the diner from their view, but different. Where there were currently faded, country rock posters plastered, plants and string lights dangled from the walls, and the bulky, square tables had been replaced with elegant, round ones. Cross-hatched lines indicated the floor was a darker wood color than the wall, unlike then where everything was about the same shade of dull brown. Geonhak nodded.

“Looks good.”

“Right?” Youngjo smiled as he flipped through the pages. “Ah, but where would I plug in the lights?”

“I’m sure Seoho could figure it out for you,” Geonhak replied, sighing as the loading bar stayed stuck at around 90%.

Seoho was the local electrician, and an eccentric one at that. Everyone else in town usually left early in the morning to make it to their jobs in time, but Seoho was always at the diner doors at nine o’clock sharp, if not already somehow seated at the counter. He’d always have a book or two from the library in the city, ranging in topic from microbiology to astrophysics, but surprisingly never about electricity. His order was the same everyday: fries, club sandwich, orange juice, which wasn’t even on the breakfast menu. Geonhak had tried to get him to try the French dip at least once (he was quite proud of his variation!), to which Seoho shook his head, smiling. “But I can see why a grunt like you would like it.” Geonhak would have probably bitten his head off throughout their bickering over food, clothes, even the science of working out if Seoho wasn’t the only one that could get the Wi-Fi working. That, and, well, he was also pretty fun to talk to — not that Geonhak would ever say that.

“Mmm, but he’d judge me,” Youngjo said, pouting. “Ugh, I can already hear him, ‘your bulbs aren’t efficient! Fairy lights are a scam! Why are you using real plants in a desert?’ ”

“Yeah, why are you using real plants in a desert?”

“For the aesthetic!”

Geonhak shook his head, huffing as he went back to staring at the blank, white, loading screen propped up on the counter. Youngjo could have his fancy renovations and his development plans, and as much as Geonhak wanted to see it happen, he wanted out more. Then again, it was his own choice coming here…

The page had timed out several times before he could actually access the website. As per usual, he copied down the emails of several schools before opening up his email and sending his resume out to all of them, and went to check his inbox for any news of a potential job offer. Nothing so far, other than a few rejections. Well, they weren’t explicitly rejections if the subject line had anything to say about it, but skimming the first few lines of each, and he knew what they were.

“Any luck?”

“Nope.”

The rest of the hour passed in relative boredom, scrolling through and applying for a few of the bouncer jobs back in the city, which he also usually got rejected from. (It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t as big and buff as some of the other guys back in the city. Okay, maybe it was, but he’d still come a long way from being the scrawny kid he was as a freshman.) Youngjo occasionally prodded him about new additions, details in his interior design plan, but for the most part, they kept quiet, trying not to die from the sweltering heat the fan couldn’t do anything about.

Dinner time came and went, and with it, the bustle of the whole town. Normally, Geonhak would just be happy to finish cleaning and go back to bed and mope (or maybe just not think) about the whole situation he’d somehow landed himself in. Life was boring — but it was better than having to go back and face his parents, or even worse,  _ him. _ Right. As long as he reminded himself of the reasons he was here, he could stomach the boredom, boredom much preferred to fighting for survival.

Enough of that. Tonight was not a normal night, and it wasn’t a normal night for precisely one reason —

“Where’s Seoho?”

“Dunno,” Geonhak replied, throwing his apron under the counter. Youngjo sagged in his seat — but his repeated glances at the clock said he was more than just tired, and a certain nervousness settled over the air. It was well past midnight, and if the Road was known for anything, it was for casting a drowsy spell over unwary drivers. Sure, Seoho always started late and got back even later than everyone else, but even he was vulnerable to the Road’s charms. One too many wrecks discovered too late always served a warning in the ungodly hours of dawn.

Just when the silence was becoming a little too heavy for anyone’s liking, the bell over the door jingled. The two perked up from their worry. Crescent eyes and a wide grin greeted them.

“Good morning!”

“Seoho!” they called together. A smug shrug from Seoho, and the tension in the air disappeared under laughter and shoulder pats that were more like slaps. It was while Seoho was systematically trying to fend off their arms that Geonhak looked up and noticed two other Asian guys following him a little distance away, one tall and lanky, another quite short but toned.

“Oh, hey, what’ve you got here?” Youngjo cooed, pushing past Seoho and turning to the guys with a sparkle in his eyes.

“They are not  _ things _ , Jo,” Seoho laughed, though underneath was a tinge of worry. Looking at the two, it wasn’t hard to tell why. The short guy had red, puffy eyes, and they looked ready to cry again if so much looked at the wrong way. The taller guy held him close, tear trails glinting a bit in the light, but obviously in better shape than his friend, though no less shaken.

“Do you guys want something to eat?” Geonhak asked, looking at the two. For a moment the words didn’t register — probably from shock more than anything — but the two exchanged quick glances, and then the taller one nodded, summoning a smile.

“Yes please,” he said, a light accent tinting his words.

“I’d like some too,” Seoho chirped. Geonhak scoffed.

“I know you do.”

They all settled for hamburgers (and Seoho’s club sandwich) and more than enough fries to split between the five of them, and by the time Geonhak came out with all their food, Seoho, Youngjo, and the two newcomers were seated at the counter chatting away with some sleep delirious laughter hanging about their heads. The two guys seemed to be in a little better spirits — no doubt thanks to Seoho — and after passing them their food, Geonhak found no problem slipping into their conversation.

“So, Hwanwoong,” Youngjo said, examining a fry, “you majored in?”

“Dance,” the shorter guy — Hwanwoong — said with a shy blush.

“An entertainer I see,” Seoho hummed. Hwanwoong nodded, smiling.

“Yeah. I want to perform in New York someday.”

“Like on Broadway?” Geonhak supplied, hopefully helpfully. It seemed to — Hwanwoong and his companion lit up and chuckled at the mention.

“Yeah! Broadway! But Reno is good right now too.”

“Ah, almost forgot,” Seoho began. He gestured to Geonhak. “Hwanwoong, Keonhee, meet Geonhak. Geonhak — Hwanwoong, and Keonhee.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Geonhak said, folding his arms and bowing his head since they probably didn’t want to shake hands with grease still on their fingers. Hwanwoong and Keonhee waved in return, before Keonhee spoke up.

“You like Broadway?”

“Ah, not really,” Geonhak mumbled, shifting his shoulders. “I’ve got a friend back home that does though.”

“Oooh, cool.”

“Keonhee, you also majored in fine arts?” Youngjo asked.

“No, not art,” Keonhee replied, shaking his head. “Music.”

“I see.”

“Planning on going to Broadway too then?” Geonhak asked, leaning on the counter. Keonhee shrugged.

“Hwanwoong is making me think about it.”

He suddenly yelped, glaring at a Hwanwoong wiggling his shoulders while picking at the fries, and Youngjo couldn’t help but giggle.

A little bit of silence passed with only gentle munching filling in the air as worry settled back in. Seoho sighed.

“Right so they’re gonna need a place to stay the night,” he began. “My trailer’s not big enough for two more, but I figured you guys might have some room?”

“I dunno… We’ve got one more bed available, but it’ll be a tight squeeze for two.”

“I can give up my room,” Geonhak said, cocking his head toward the stairs on the far wall. “I’ll just crash on Youngjo’s couch.”

“That works too,” Youngjo said with a smile, and maybe a bit of a playful glance in Hwanwoong’s direction. He nodded, bowing.

“Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Keonhee added with his own bow. Youngjo waved his hand and smiled.

“Don’t mention it. Enjoy your stay.”

When the food was done, the dishes cleaned, and Hwanwoong and Keonhee escorted to the rooms above the diner, Geonhak started making his way to Youngjo’s house next door, only to find both him and Seoho lounging around in lawn chairs — though it was more like gravel chairs in this town — with a pack of beers at their feet. Youngjo gestured to the seat next to him.

“Come. Sit.”

“What, you think I’m just gonna stand around?” Geonhak chuckled. Seoho pursed his lips, popping the cap off the bottle.

“No, he thought you were gonna ignore us entirely and collapse the moment you got into the house.”

“I’m not  _ that _ tired.”

“Suuuuure.”

Geonhak rolled his eyes, plopping down on the chair with a huff, politely declining the beer Youngjo offered him.

“Don’t drink, remember?”

“You’re no fun,” he whined. Seoho chuckled.

“Muscle chick.”

_ “Shut up.” _

If there was anything nice about the town, it was the night. While midday was sweltering heat and melting shoe soles, night was cool breezes and bespeckled skies. Amidst the all too familiar quiet, the newfound cool gave the town a new, refreshing color. And so it was in this sort of atmosphere they sat around, quietly gazing at the stars, too lazy to sleep yet too tired to do anything else.

That didn’t mean that curiosity wasn’t at work — in fact, Geonhak had a lot of questions. Okay maybe it was one question, but that was beside the point.

“So… what happened?”

“Well, you see,” Seoho began, a bit smug, “I got my sandwich this morning that was extra soggy for whatever reason-”

“Hey.”

“So I had a job down the road-”

“Just get to the damn point.”

“I was driving back and there were these two Asian guys standing next to a wreck,” Seoho said, laughing at Geonhak’s glare, “and one of them’s crying, and I was thinking, ‘you know, we Asians gotta stick together, like rice,’ ya know? So I just kinda picked ‘em up and here we are.”

“How’s the car looking?” Youngjo asked. Seoho took a sip of his beer, and shook his head.

“Not too bad. Deborah picked it up, said she could fix it in a week between her other jobs. I’ll be taking them back to the city though since I got a job there tomorrow.”

“Aw, kinda wish they’d stay.” Youngjo pouted, swishing his bottle around. “Spice up life a little, eh?”

“Ok, we get it, you think Hwanwoong’s cute and you want the cheesy summer romance from the movies.”

“A man can dream, Hak!”

“Hey, didn’t you say you went to Reno for college?” Seoho asked before Youngjo could burst out into a drunken sob. (He never could hold alcohol well anyway) Geonhak shrugged.

“Yeah, why?”

“Ah, they’re international students there, thought you might’ve known them.”

He scoffed.

“There are literally thousands of people there, I’m not gonna know a few lowerclassmen, especially if they’re not in my department.”

Well, unless they were a certain theater major… but that wasn’t the point. He sighed, taking a swig from Youngjo’s beer, much to his dismay.

“There’s literally a pack right there!”

“I’m not gonna drink a whole bottle,” Geonhak laughed, passing it back. “Opening a new one would be a waste.”

Youngjo looked on the verge of tears, and it was then they decided it was probably best to head in for the night — definitely not because they didn’t want to deal with his hopeless romantic tendencies. They waved Seoho farewell as he drove his van up the small hill to his trailer, and with a final pout from Youngjo earning a slap from Geonhak, they went inside, shutting out the twinkling stars.

_ dongdong: _

_ hey _

_ how was your day? _

_ i’ve been chilling at home before summer semester starts helping dongmyeong and giwook with the band _

_ i dunno how these music majors do it lmao _

_ kinda like a bus driver’s holiday yk _

_ my friends went roadtripping and invited me but i couldn’t make it _

_ i’ve got rehearsals and stuff _

_ opening night’s in a week!!! _

_ wish you could be there. _

_ geonhee misses you, even if he doesn’t say it. _

_ he’s kinda like you in that way lmao _

_ i miss you. _

_ hope you have a good night. _

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

For once in his life, Geonhak was outside the diner to greet Seoho in the morning, and though he grumbled and mumbled against Seoho’s teasing, he let him in and quickly went to the back to assemble the usual. When he came out, Hwanwoong and Keonhee had woken up and had taken a seat next to Seoho at the counter.

“Not awake yet, huh?” Geonhak joked, sliding the food down to Seoho. Hwanwoong yawned in response as Keonhee patted his back, hand on his heart.

“He’s a sloth in the morning. Right now is too early for him.”

Hwanwoong mumbled something, and Geonhak knew enough Korean from his parents to know it was “Shut up.” Suddenly Keonhee yelped, flailing, and Hwanwoong was smiling ever so deviously at the counter. Geonhak bit his lip, trying to suppress his laughter.

“So this’ll make one helluva graduation story, won’t it?” Seoho said, smiling. Hwanwoong nodded, though he wouldn’t meet their eyes.

“Thank you again for letting us stay the night,” Keonhee said when he’d finally recovered from Hwanwoong’s pinch. Geonhak shook his head.

“Not a problem. Just glad you’re safe.”

He took their order and came out with their food some moments later — just some pancakes and jam — and by then Youngjo had somehow climbed out of bed and joined them all at the counter, stars in his eyes as Keonhee and Hwanwoong chatted away about their cross country trip from Reno to New York, how they went to see the shows and the museums, how they figured on the way back they’d take Route 50 instead of the interstate because they had to do it at least once in their life, right? Carefully, Keonhee recounted how he’d fallen asleep at the wheel, the ensuing panic, how they thought Seoho with his shiny white van was going to kidnap them until he started speaking Korean (“You can’t just trust everyone who speaks Korean!” “I know, I’m stupid!”), and how they ended up here. Hwanwoong quickly changed the subject, and they started chatting about their upcoming plans to go back to Korea for the summer before starting work — to go back  _ home. _

Home.

“Ah, sorry to break it up, but we’ve gotta go,” Seoho said, pointing at the clock. Hwanwoong and Keonhee nodded and jumped to their feet, panicking again but this time about their luggage before remembering they’d left it in Seoho’s van the night before. With that thought, they were ready to leave — but not before Hwanwoong turned back to Youngjo and Geonhak.

“Thank you for helping us.”

“Our pleasure,” Youngjo said with a wink. Hwanwoong turned away, blushing, saying something to Keonhee that Geonhak couldn’t quite make out before waving goodbye and heading out the door.

“Drive safely Seoho!” Youngjo called.

“But only ‘cause you’re driving other people!” Geonhak added. Seoho rolled his eyes, saluted, and with a grin, left for the Road. Youngjo folded his arms, something wistful in his voice.

“Well, that was fun.”

“I guess.”

“You doing alright?” Youngjo asked, setting his elbows on the counter. Geonhak shook his head.

“Ask yourself. You’re already missing Hwanwoong, aren’t you?”

“Oh shut up.”

Geonhak managed a smile, enjoying this opportunity to tease Youngjo, if not to distract his own thoughts beginning to wander. He loaded up the dishes on a tray, and with Youngjo wiping down the menus, went into the back.

_ Home. _ The word stuck as fiercely as the jam without soap to scrub it off. Home was a place he longed for, a place he couldn’t return to — no matter how much he missed Mom and Dad, Geonhee and Dongju-

As much as he missed them, he couldn’t face them. He’d given them expectations, expectations they’d set, expectations he’d failed to deliver on. They didn’t know — he  _ hoped _ they didn’t know — he had run away before they could, just so he wouldn’t have to see the sadness, the confusion, the  _ disappointment _ that would’ve weighed their faces. He already felt all those things; there was no need for anyone else to feel them too.

He came back to the counter and found Youngjo already deep into his sketchbook, filling it with more of his dreams for this dingy part of the world he called home.

“Is everything alright?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Geonhak muttered, and he started again to try — futilely — to clean the stain.

3 o’clock came and went the same as always. No new job offers, school or bouncer or otherwise, no Wi-Fi, no getting out from this place without seeming like a massive failure. He slammed his laptop shut, ran a hand through his hair. Youngjo looked up from his sketchbook, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing?”

“No…”

“I see…” Youngjo mumbled, taking a pack of crayons from one of the rarely used kids’ menus and opening it up. “Remind me what you studied?”

“Elementary education, why?”

“Just curious.”

Geonhak nodded, and maybe even searched Youngjo’s face for a hint of surprise, or maybe even judgement, though he knew he wouldn’t find it. Youngjo wasn’t that kind of person — and like he expected from him, there was no trace of those emotions at all. There was only a simple purse of the lips as the information was catalogued somewhere within his mind, only to be brought up in case conversation ever came up again or something like that. That being said, Geonhak did have to wonder…

“Did you ever go to college?”

“Yup,” Youngjo replied, scribbling something red in his sketchbook. “Studied business then came right back here.”

“Why?”

“How many families have you seen around here?”

“Well there’s you guys.” Geonhak paused, searching the mental records of the twenty or so residents of the town. “And I guess there’s the Perezes at the pump.”

“And everyone else?”

“Okay, I get it. Your point?”

“I have… roots here, so to speak.” Youngjo laughed, more to himself than anything. “I know, adopted Korean boy has roots in Middle-of-Nowhere, America. But… I guess this place is the only roots the town has.”

Youngjo sighed, setting down his crayon.

“I guess- I figured, in a town full of wanderers, I oughta make as good a home as I can, right? And if I leave, who will do that for them?”

“I mean, your parents are still here,” Geonhak added. Youngjo huffed.

“And they’ll leave someday. I’ll leave someday.” He dug around the box for another crayon, this time green. “But hopefully by then I’ll have found someone who’ll do what I’ll do. Carry on the responsibility, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Geonhak slid his laptop under the counter, revealing the stain he’d set it on top of. It had been here for as long as he’d been here — perhaps Youngjo’s family had been scrubbing at it even longer. He smiled. While it was no less annoying than before, it had certainly gained some sort of charm. Roots indeed.

Evening came, and slowly the townsfolk began filtering in for their regular dinners. Geonhak scrambled back and forth from the kitchen to the counter, Youngjo patiently waited on the folk, carrying the dishes to them along with his heart-lightening smile. The last person to be served was, as usual, Seoho, this time not at an egregiously late hour. He smiled as Youngjo and Geonhak took their places seated at and behind the counter respectively, happily taking in the aroma of fresh fries amongst his club sandwich and ice cold orange juice.

“What a wonderful 24 hours it’s been.”

“You could’ve just said day,” Geonhak said, chuckling as he rested his arms on the counter.

“But day can mean from the time I’ve woken up until now, or it could be the full 24 hours,” Seoho snapped back, grinning. “And I mean the full 24 hours.”

“What a wonderful 24 hours indeed…”

“Still thinking about Woong?” Geonhak laughed. Youngjo twirled a fry in the air.

“Yeah~”

“You should totally visit him before he goes back to Korea,” Seoho hummed, sipping his juice. “Lots to do in the city, am I right?”

“Maybe he’ll take you with him,” Geonhak teased, poking at Youngjo. Youngjo looked up at the ceiling.

“That doesn’t sound so bad actually.”

They laughed, snatching some of Seoho’s fries for themselves much to his mock dismay, but perhaps it was a bit of payback for making them worry so much last night.

“Alright, alright, but seriously Geonhak, you never told me your campus was so… nice!”

“Like you’ve never had a job there?” Geonhak raised an eyebrow. Seoho pursed his lips, picking up another fry.

“No, just never got the time to enjoy it there. Can’t really stop and smell the roses when you’re trying to find the engineering building, can you?”

“Which is why I never set foot in it.”

Seoho scoffed.

“You hear this man?”

“I mean,” Youngjo said, the same thoughtful look on his face as earlier, “he’s got a point.”

“You guys are mean,” Seoho said with a roll of his eyes.

“But they gave you a campus tour?”

“Better than any you’ve given me.” Seoho shot Geonhak a warning glance as he began to lunge forward in faux-offense. “One of my jobs got cancelled so they showed me around the fine arts center. Met some theater kids, really nice.”

Geonhak froze. Theater kids? No, there were hundreds of theater majors, there’s no way he could’ve met the  _ one _ he was thinking of. Youngjo leaned in closer.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he lied. Both Seoho and Youngjo gave him suspicious glances, though Seoho quickly turned his attention back to his food and continued with his anecdote.

“Anyway, we watched them rehearse for one of their musicals they’re putting on in a week. Hwanwoong and Keonhee invited us to come since we’ll be dropping off the car then anyway if you guys wanna come.”

“That’d be fun,” Youngjo hummed. “Geonhak?”

“I… I’ll have to think about it.”

Seoho raised an eyebrow.

“Is there someone you’re trying to avoid?”

_ Yes, _ there was indeed someone he wanted to avoid back at the university if he could help it — Seoho picked up on this and shrugged.

“Unless you know someone in the musical, I doubt you’ll run into anyone. Just think of the statistical probability! One out of what, twenty-thousand?”

“That’s the thing… _ he’s a theater major _ .”

“I thought you majored in education?” Youngjo said more than asked. Geonhak huffed.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t have friends in other departments.”

Or rather,  _ did _ have friends until he’d decided it was better they didn’t know him at all and ran away. Seoho shrugged.

“Well if he’s your friend, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Give it some thought, yeah?”

_ dongdong: _

_ hey _

_ how’ve you been? _

_ my friends came back _

_ they saw wicked on broadway!!!!!!! _

_ they’re so lucky _

_ wish i could’ve gone with ‘em _

_ but maybe not lol they got in a pretty bad crash _

_ maybe if i was there i could’ve driven for them _

_ idk _

_ geonhee’s doing fine as always _

_ he’d be doing more fine if you were here <3 _

_ ew that was cringe _

_ hope you never meet anyone like that lol _

_ actually too late, you met me <3 _

_ ew _

_ not at meeting me, but at what i said lol _

_ dongdong: _

_ miss you _

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Seoho apparently kept in very good contact with Hwanwoong and Keonhee, meeting up with them whenever he had a chance between jobs in the city. On one hand, this was great for Geonhak — they soon got details about the musical for next week. Apart from the name which Seoho had apparently forgotten (it was Wicked), they were also able to obtain a cast list. As it turned out, yes, the person he wanted to avoid was indeed performing that night, albeit as a minor cast member (made sense, he was a sophomore). On the other hand, the social pressure from Seoho becoming closer to the two made it harder and harder by the day to say ‘no’ to their invitation,  _ especially _ since it was supposed to be a thank you gift for everything, and  _ oh, if he didn’t want to come,  _ they’d find another way to thank him and Geonhak  _ really _ didn’t want to inconvenience anyone anymore than he already was.

“So are you gonna go?”

“For the fifth time today, no,” Geonhak replied. Youngjo flinched, and Geonhak realized he’d probably been sharper than he had intended. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Youngjo said, flatly, going back to his sketchbook. Geonhak sighed. He really didn’t mean to hurt him, nor anyone for that matter. He just… he just needed time to figure things out. There were… a lot of things he needed to figure out: like getting an actual job and getting his own place, and not just leeching off the kindness of Youngjo and his family; or if he did end up going to the musical (which he  _ wasn’t _ ) how he’d avoid  _ him _ without seeming suspicious, and if absolutely necessary, just what the fuck he was supposed to say to  _ him _ if they did meet.  _ “Oh hey, sorry I’ve been ghosting you for the past year. I lost the job I thought I was gonna have and ran away rather than tell you. I’m broke, and I couldn’t afford the extra $20 to pay for unlimited text. Oh yeah, did I tell you I’m working minimum wage?” _

“You could just tell them you don’t wanna see him,” Seoho had suggested last night, which Geonhak completely shut down because that meant he’d have to  _ explain, _ and if there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was exactly that.

But the car was slowly getting fixed, and in precisely two days it’d be in ready condition, and in precisely two days it would be opening night. While Geonhak was grateful Deborah fixed his beater of a car in no time when he’d first arrived, it was times like these he really  _ really _ wished she wasn’t such a miracle worker.

When 3 o’clock came, he vigorously refreshed his emails, hoping for some sort of godsend of a job — but like every other day, his email box was fraught with rejection, all listing the same reasons. One year work gap. Terminated contract without any clear reason for it. No experience. He groaned, grabbing his hair. Nothing was going right, was it?

“Everything okay?”

“What does it look like?”

Youngjo kept quiet for the rest of the day.

Dinner rolled around, and Geonhak relegated himself to the kitchen as usual, but unusually  _ stayed _ there even after Seoho was served, citing the dishes that he just wanted to wash now so he didn’t have to do it later so he could get to bed early. Seoho knit his eyebrows at his excuse, but a wave from Youngjo’s hand, and he let it slide… for now. Because after dinner was over and Geonhak thought all the patrons were gone and all the tables wiped down and it was safe to come out, Seoho just had to be waiting at the door for him, brow furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. Geonhak stumbled back.

“What’s this for?”

“We’re going to  _ talk.” _

“I should’ve gone out the back,” Geonhak mumbled. Seoho scoffed.

“You think I’m that stupid? Youngjo’s waiting there for you.”

“You got him on it  _ too?” _

“Look, he’s not gonna be there for the heart-to-heart if that makes you feel any better,” Seoho said, keeping his eyes glued to him. “But he wants whatever’s going on with you to just… stop. He’s concerned. We’re both concerned.”

“If you were concerned, you’d let me be,” Geonhak said, lightly pushing him aside. Seoho grabbed his wrist.

“No. We’re going to figure this out.”

Seoho dragged him into his van (“Wow, doesn’t seem suspicious at all.” “Not the first time I’ve been told that.”) buckled him in like he was a kid (or a hostage), and whirred the van to life. Youngjo emerged from the back, and receiving a thumbs-up from Seoho, waved good-bye and headed to his house. Geonhak scoffed.

“You really did…”

“What, you thought I was bluffing?” Seoho laughed. His tires crunched over the gravel parking lot, and with a deft turn, headed down the equally gravelly roads, and up the small hill past the Perez’s gas pump.

Now that Geonhak thought about it, he’d never actually been to Seoho’s trailer. There’d been no reason to, not when Youngjo had everything they could’ve wanted at his house or at least within walking distance. Thus, the fifteen minutes spent driving in the dark, up the hill to the trailer park stretched out to eternity, an eternity spent wiggling around in his seat, a deep pit forming in his stomach as his thoughts kept spinning and spinning and spinning.

Seoho’s trailer was actually kind of cute when all was said and done, and it looked like the perfect place to spend a summer night with friends, just chatting as they went stargazing. Unfortunately, they weren’t here to stargaze, and after being seated under the striped, green canopy hanging out the side, he had a feeling they weren’t just going to chat either.

Seoho emerged from his trailer with two bottles of Coke in his hand, and passed one to Geonhak. He eyed it, furrowing his brow.

“Thanks.”

“Trust me, we’ll need the caffeine.”

“Wow, gonna interrogate me that long, huh?” Geonhak chuckled. Seoho laughed back, shaking his head.

“Well, it  _ would _ be a lot shorter if someone just drank alcohol.”

Geonhak had to stop himself from choking on the carbonation flowing down his throat. He wiped his mouth, laughing along with Seoho.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Seoho said with a grin, taking a sip of his own soda. He really could be a sweet guy, paying attention to all the details, a little like Dongju…

Dongju. The name sat heavy in his heart.

The familiar quiet of the town settled in, draped over their shoulders as the stars twinkled beyond in the horizon. They weren’t visible in the blaring lights of the city, but in the quiet darkness of the Road, the only indication of the human hand for miles and miles, they shone brightly, each as distinct as the one next to it.

“In a few hours, you’ll be able to see the Milky Way,” Seoho whispered, something like awe fluttering from his chest. Geonhak nodded, leaning back in his chair.

“Let’s hope we’ll be able to enjoy it then.”

Some time passed, lazy as always in the town’s quiet. For an intervention or something, they were mighty relaxed, neither really wanting to bring up what they were here to do, but seeing it hang overhead nonetheless. When considering that, the night turned to something simultaneously lax and tense, and Geonhak wondered when it’d break.

“So, what brought you out here in the first place?” Seoho finally asked, turning to him. Geonhak sighed.

“You know… graduated college, lost my job, ran away.”

“But you got a degree in education, didnt you?” Seoho raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it be easier to look for a job in the city, where all the schools are?”

“I mean, yeah…” Geonhak took a sip of his drink. The pit in his stomach sunk a bit deeper — he didn’t like where this was going. Seoho nodded, turning back to the night.

“There’s a lot more to it than just job opportunities, huh?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Silence.

“Do you have family at home?”

“Yeah.” He picked a pebble from the ground and threw it. “Parents brought us over when we were still kids.”

“We?”

“My little brother. He’s… three years younger than me, doesn’t remember anything before, well, America.”

“But you do,” Seoho added. Geonhak shook his head, chuckling.

“Barely. I was like five.”

His memories of Korea were hazy, but he remembered growing up well. He remembered both his parents working hard during the day, his mom often still in her work slacks when she picked him up from school, and then picked up Geonhee from the daycare. He remembered how late his dad would come home, how he’d still find time on the weekends to take them to his taekwondo studio he’d finally managed to open up after long years and even longer hours. He remembered how happy his parents were to meet the Son family by happenstance, their elation after finding out they lived just five minutes down the street of their new home, lonely immigrants, just like them, wandering down the road in search of a place to put down roots amidst dry, foreign soil.

“So are your parents like… tiger parents?”

“Oh, no,” Geonhak laughed. “You think they would’ve let me become a teacher if they were?”

“Fair point.”

Seoho picked a pebble off the ground, like Geonhak, and like Geonhak, threw it toward the sky.

“Do you think your parents would let you live with them?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

_ Would they let you live with them? _ Yes. Of course, yes they’d let him live with them. When he’d moved out to college, they nagged him to come visit them in the suburbs every weekend, and if he didn’t come home, they came to visit him. Both Geonhak and Geonhee would always complain about it, how clingy they were — but when he sat down to think about it, it was just… harder for them to let go. It was lonelier without him. There was one less person to understand them, and not just in the cheesy, ‘we’re family’ level. It was lonely, having eyes on you, having employees squint as they tried to make out your parents’ accented English, lonely as from an early age, the adults looked to you to bridge gaps you didn’t understand, to have your feet in two different worlds and made to feel like you had to choose one or the other, to explain the things that just didn’t make sense and see both worlds fall apart as they collided.

Of course they’d welcome him home — gladly, with open arms — but…

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Seoho said, his voice steady, unlike Geonhak’s own. Geonhak held down fire rising through his chest, painful memories pushing against his head.

“I just can’t. They’d just… You know how hard they work.”

“Yeah, I do know how hard they work.” Seoho’s voice was sharp against the night.

“Then you know why I can’t just- why I shouldn’t go back.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t you go back?”

“I can’t just take their money,” Geonhak said, fighting back the urge to scream. “I took enough of it going through college with the expectation I’d make something out of myself and pay it back. I can’t just go back and keep asking for more-”

“But you’re doing that right now, aren’t you?” Seoho said, cool, crisp. “You’re living with Youngjo’s family, and they’re even paying you to live with them — even better than just living at home. So what gives?”

So what gives? What gives? Why was it different living with Youngjo than with his family? He knew the answer — they had absolutely zero expectations for him, zero standards, zero potential of being disappointed. Apart from what they didn’t have, what they had was different too. They already had their roots established. They probably had family elsewhere, someone else they could turn to, rely on. If Geonhak failed here, if he failed while his parents still grasped at the desert rock for water, there was no option B, for him, or for them.

He couldn’t just let their sacrifices be in vain.

“Geonhakkie?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay.”

Geonhak looked up from the gravel, into Seoho’s still, serene face, filled not with cold judgement, but with the glimmer of the stars overhead. Words, tact, whirred through Seoho’s head — he could see it — and finally they were voiced.

“My parents kicked me out when I had to drop out of college,” Seoho began. “They wanted me to do something prestigious, like being a doctor or a lawyer or something.”

“I’m… sorry.”

“It’s- I’m okay with it.” Seoho bit his lip, and Geonhak could see the discomfort shifting in his eyes. “But I think more than being disappointed or angry with me, they were just… scared.”

“Scared you’d fail?”

“Exactly.”

“But I failed.” Geonhak swallowed the lump in his throat. “I failed following that path they thought led to success, I failed with my diploma in my hands.”

“And it doesn’t make sense to you, does it?”

“And it won’t make any sense to them either.” Geonhak kicked at the ground. “I did everything they thought was right, that  _ I  _ thought was right. I got my degree, I got a job lined up for me — but the moment some senior faculty member decided they wanted my position, suddenly my job’s gone and I’m flat out broke because of  _ chance.” _

He felt Seoho’s eyes on his neck as he buried his face in his hands. He didn’t care. He really couldn’t care at that moment. He could only see the horror on their faces as they realized how their son had done everything they’d always taught him to do, as they realized that the corruption they thought they had run away from was inescapable, as they realized that no matter how hard they or he worked in this society, to fit in or otherwise, their place was still never guaranteed. He could only imagine their pain as they realized that in the desert, a single change in the wind could uproot them as it had him.

And Dongju? He could only imagine how scared he’d be, knowing that his best friend from childhood had picked a path so stable, so sure, and yet still managed to be tossed around, wayward.  _ Lost. _

A hand pressed on his shoulder, squeezing it. It was Seoho — he knew it was Seoho.

“You know-” His voice was soft, gentle in the cold. “I… I think you just need to talk with them. I don’t- I don’t claim to know them personally, but they don’t seem like the kind of people to kick out their kid because they happened to hit a rough patch.”

“I know that…” Geonhak mumbled, ruffling his hair again. “But- I’m supposed to be  _ independent.” _

“Independent doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help,” Seoho said, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “I mean, I get it. Your parents did so much for you, and so when something bad happens to you, you’d rather just suck it up and try and deal with it on your own because you can’t just go back and burden them like that anymore, emotionally  _ and _ financially. But…”

He swallowed, trying to keep something back.

“But… it’s lonely… doing that. And it’s hard doing it alone.”

“Wandering down the road, trying to find a place to put down roots?”

“Did Youngjo say that?” Seoho chuckled. Geonhak half-laughed, shrugging.

“Part of it.”

“I mean it works, but that was cheesy as hell.” They laughed at the thought of Youngjo pouting at the ill-reception to his metaphor, before Seoho continued. “But really, it’s hard, it hurts, and when you fail on your own, there’s usually no way to get back on your feet.”

“And… your point?”

“Not everyone has support like you, Geonhak.” Stinging bitterness sung in the air, pained, saddened. “A lot of us didn’t have a choice, getting on the Road, but you did. And  _ you _ can still turn back, and they’ll be waiting. Yeah, it’ll hurt, but…”

Seoho folded his arms over his chest.

“At least you’ve got a home to go back to.”

_ Home. Roots.  _ Words that stuck like the stain on the counter, like jam on a plate. Things he… things he had — things he refused to go back to. He guessed... he was blessed to have them. If only he’d put aside his insecurities, his pride and just stop to smell the roses that had already bloomed in the midst of the desert…

He looked up at Seoho, who was biting the inside of his cheek as if already regretting saying what he said, and put a hand on his back.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Seoho sighed, but quickly laughed, dissipating the tension. “Like, it sucks, but, I mean, I went to trade school, met Jo, got a job — things kinda worked out for me in the end, right?”

“Right.”

“Hey, and if things don’t work out for you,” Seoho said, turning to Geonhak with a smile, “you’ve always got us, yeah?”

Geonhak looked up in thought.

“Yeah.”

The stars had moved quite a bit by the time they’d settled back into their seats, the threatening heat of tears receding back into… wherever it came from. So they watched the stars for a bit, laid back, lazy…

His phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket, turning down the brightness in the dark as he read the incoming texts from… him. Pain tugged at his chest as he skimmed over the words — he put it away before it could turn to dread, regret.

“Who was that?”

“A friend from home,” Geonhak mumbled, afraid if he spoke any louder something more might come out. Seoho nodded, but his eyes moved as if putting two pieces together. He knit his brow.

“This… they wouldn’t happen to be the friend you’re trying to avoid, are they?”

Was he really that transparent? Well, there was no point hiding it now — Geonhak sighed, nodding.

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong? Is he threatening you or something?”

“Wha- no,” Geonhak laughed, folding his arms. “I mean, he might kill me on the spot if he ever saw me again, but like, not literally.”

“A feisty kinda friend, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“So is there a problem, going back and seeing him?”

“No- I mean, yeah, I mean-” Geonhak sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“We’re all for complicated today.”

“Okay, look,” Geonhak began, sitting up a bit straighter. “I wanted to avoid him for the same reason I wanted to avoid my parents, and after that whole talk, I realize I was stupid and that the best thing to do — and the thing I should have done in the first place — was just swallow my pride and my insecurities and just talk to them.”

Seoho raised an eyebrow.

“There’s one more hangup, isn’t there?”

“Yeah. As in I haven’t texted him back in a year.”

“A _ year?” _

“I can’t afford unlimited text!”

“You could’ve at least told him! In  _ one text!” _ Seoho cried, incredulous.

“Well I’m stupid if you couldn’t tell!” Geonhak yelled back. Seoho held up a hand.

“Wait, but how frequent have the texts been, and what are they like? Mean? Cutesy?”

“Everyday, definitely cutesy.”

“Oh my god.” Seoho slunk into his chair, rubbing his temples. “You, Kim Geonhak, are a fucking mess.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Geonhak laughed, leaning back. It took a while, but when they finally calmed down, he lifted his bottle of Coke, Seoho did the same, and with a toast in the starlit night, took a nice, long swig.

“So… are you going to the musical?”

“Yup.”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The whole two hour drive back to Reno was full of nerves — enough to keep Geonhak immune from the Road’s drowsy spell. He was actually going back to the city after a year of sitting around… wiping down a stain that refused to come out (“Your life sounds sad when you put it that way.” “Hey, who made me do it?”), after a year of zero-contact with everyone he held near and dear, after a year of trying so hard to make it on his own in the desert rock. Was he scared to death? Yes. But did that stop him from being excited? No.

And dear Youngjo in the passenger seat, well, he was excited for perhaps different, perhaps similar reasons.

“You’re really  _ really _ giddy.”

“Am not!”

“You’re playing all your romantic stuff!”

“Geonhak, since when was my playlist ever  _ not _ romantic stuff?”

“Fair point.”

And Geonhak, in perhaps not his first streak of impulsivity, pressed the pedal to the metal, and sped down the Loneliest Road toward home.

Geonhak of course slowed down when he got onto the by-far more crowded I-80, and for a moment the number of cars flowing in and out of the glowing city disoriented him. It was all so familiar, yet so strange. He guessed this was what a year out in the middle of nowhere did to you — and Youngjo fared no better. But the speed limit here was still rather fast, and the closer he got to the familiar sights of towering buildings and glowering signs, the more he was tempted to go just a little faster.

If he thought his nerves were bad on the Road, boy was he in trouble at the University. Trying to find parking now was just as bad as it was back then, even though he was now helpfully looking for the guest lots instead of the student ones, which was only marginally more manageable — but just driving down the roads was enough to send waves of nostalgia through his body, and remind his hands of the warmth that he’d held walking down them too. With those memories came heightened panic — he wasn’t just here to meet his parents, he was out here to meet Dongju too, and with any luck, he’d see Dongju first and hopefully he’d end his misery before he could face his family. He didn’t know which thought he preferred more. He could only try and find a place to park his car as blood pounded in his ears and made it that much harder to focus.

Keonhee and Hwanwoong were waiting outside the Church Fine Arts center along with Seoho. The sky was starting to darken, and the multicolored lights of the blocky exterior began to show more brilliantly in this time, made even more-so with the wide grins adorning the three’s faces. Keonhee cheered.

“Welcome!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Youngjo said, waving his hands and bowing as he made a beeline to Hwanwoong’s side. Hwanwoong hopped backwards as Youngjo approached, though whether his cheeks were pink from the light or from his proximity, Geonhak couldn’t tell. Seoho and Keonhee exchanged some Korean that Geonhak couldn’t quite pick out, but what he  _ did _ hear sounded something like, “why’d I give him his number” and “how long has this been going on” and finally the punchline: “a long time.”

“So, we heading in or..?”

“Ah, yeah!” Keonhee chirped, pointing to the doors. “We already bought the tickets, so don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks for treating us tonight,” Seoho said, holding the door open for the two. Keonhee smiled, taking the interior door.

“Well, you brought us back here, hyung. It’s our thank you to you!”

The five of them quickly got situated, Youngjo and Hwanwoong giggling like babies, already holding hands as they took adjacent seats. Seoho and Keonhee both scrunched their faces, with Keonhee saying something along the lines of “get a room” as Seoho and Geonhak took their seats next to him, laughing.

As they waited for the show to begin, Geonhak opened up the program and looked at the cast list he’d practically memorized at this point, searching diligently for a certain Son Dongju among the ensemble for no reason other than to solidify the fact that  _ I am in the same building as him _ and  _ oh my god I’m going to see him again  _ and _ I am going to see him on stage. _ He rolled the paper up in his hands, folded it, played with it, and by the time the lights dimmed and the curtain rose, the program was practically unsalvageable.

All throughout the show, Geonhak searched for his face among the denizens of the Land of Oz, sweat drenching his palms only to be absorbed into the program that had become little more than a fidget toy at this point, and now apparently a towel. He caught sight of him once among the Munchkins — but after that, the numbers and the, well,  _ theatrics _ of it all distracted him, and he found himself genuinely drawn into the world set out in front of him on stage. His heart dropped at the end of Act 1 when Elphaba decided to strike it out on her own, did flip-flops all throughout Act 2, sprouting into tears along with Keonhee at the climax much to Seoho’s discomfort, and finally turning to relief at the ending, with lovers reunited after one’s disappearance. Hwanwoong by now was passing out tissues he’d packed beforehand to the two of them as they stood and made their way out the auditorium, dabbing away at tears and snot in front of a still grimacing Seoho.

Whatever catharsis the musical had brought upon him, it was short lived as Keonhee and Hwanwoong led Youngjo, Seoho, and Geonhak around the hall and backstage. Swimming through the crowd, through the bright white lights illuminating the hallway, getting closer and closer — his fingers buzzed, his heart raced, everything within him threatening to turn inside-out and-

There he was, standing brilliantly calm against the storm.

“Dongju!”

Dongju, his hair dyed a vibrant red but his doe-eyed look unmistakably his, whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. Geonhak pushed through the crowd, called again.

“Dongju-ah!”

He turned, furrowed brows, to face him directly. And then, like magic, they widened.

Geonhak scooped him into his arms, twirling him around like the princess he always insisted he was. And it felt so  _ right _ , holding him tightly to his chest with his honey laugh ringing out of heart-shaped lips in pure joy and suddenly the past year with all the worry and fear and shame melted away into  _ this moment _ and he wondered why he was so scared in the first place. It didn’t matter how sweaty Dongju was from the hours spent under costumes and spotlights, how sweaty Geonhak was from a year spent in the dark — it just didn’t. It was just this, smudged makeup, happy tears, and all.

“Geonhakkie, you’re-”

Hwanwoong and Keonhee suddenly approached, with Youngjo and Seoho following close behind waving. Dongju’s grin spread wider.

“Oh my, you’re all here!”

“We couldn’t miss opening night for our baby brother!” Keonhee said with a salute. Seoho smiled and folded his arms, letting Youngjo leave his side and Hwanwoong tugged him closer.

“Look! It’s the guy I was talking about.”

“Oh my, he  _ is _ handsome.” Dongju held his hand out. “Dongju, heard a lot about you.”

“Youngjo, hope it was all good,” Youngjo replied with a wink. Dongju gagged, turning back to Geonhak, fanning himself.

“You hear this guy?”

“You get used to it,” Geonhak chuckled, though Dongju didn’t seem to hear it just yet. Instead, his eyes stayed glued to him, scanning his face, doing the Dongju thing and drinking in every detail as if trying to find a discrepancy.

“I just- I can’t believe you’re-”

“Alive?”

“I knew you were alive, stupid,” Dongju scoffed. “You know the messenger app shows whether or not you’ve read a message, right?”

“I- o-of course.”

“Dongju, if I may,” Seoho cut in, “I believe Geonhak is a grade A idiot.”

“No shit Sherlock!” Dongju said, incredulous. “What- where-”

Geonhak squeezed his eyes shut against Dongju trying to find which question to ask first, like where he’d been, what’d he been doing, why didn’t he respond to any of his texts for over a year-

“Have you told Geonhee yet?”

“W-what?”

“Your brother! Your family’s worried sick!” Dongju sighed. “Do I have to explain everything to you?”

“Uh…”

“You, in fact, do,” Seoho once again supplied with a grin. Dongju turned to him, laughing.

“Seoho, I know I said this before, but I like you.”

“You guys met before?!”

“Yeah, he watched one of the rehearsals,” Dongju scoffed like it was the most obvious thing in the world before setting his eyes back on Seoho. “How’d you find out Geonhakkie’s an idiot?”

“We had a good talk,” Geonhak said before a mischievously grinning Seoho could destroy anymore of his nonexistent pride. “I’ve been a pretty big idiot.”

Instead of the laughter and the scoffs he expected from Dongju, instead of the “I know”s and the slight judgement that came along with his blunt teasing, instead of any of the silliness that he thought would ensue- instead of that, there was just a sigh. Dongju sighed.

“I missed you.”

Geonhak laughed, cried, pressed his forehead to his.

“I missed you too.”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Today’s the big day.”

“Yup.”

Youngjo smiled, adding another scribble to his sketchbook.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

The talk with his parents was… he couldn’t exactly remember. There was lots of crying, lots of laughing — his parents definitely brought out some wine for him, for Youngjo, for Seoho, and there was some formulation of plans for some big dinner with the Sons (and Youngjo and Seoho if they wanted to join). There was definitely trying to coax them — coax him — to stay the night, and the heart-wrenching goodbye that was perhaps a year too late but maybe it was better that way. Anyway, the whole ordeal was a blur, but one thing was for sure.

“I’m gonna miss this place.”

“Are you really?” Youngjo laughed, continuing to scribble something in crayon. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said this past year.”

“Stop exaggerating.”

“You love it and you know it.”

Geonhak made some sort of sound between a sigh, a laugh, and a sob. Youngjo, even now, was still his same, calm, loving self, even at the apex of something so painful standing right at his door. If there was anything else Geonhak hoped to take from him, it was that — and he had taken a lot of things.

“Hey, Youngjo?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

Youngjo looked up from his sketchbook, and smiled.

“It was my pleasure. Drive safely.”

“I won’t.”

“And if you ever come back down the Road.” Youngjo tore something from his sketchbook. In a few paces, he was next to Geonhak, slipping the page into his hands. “Remember the Desert Rose is always open for service.”

“So that’s what this place is called, eh?”

“That’s what it  _ will _ be called once it’s mine,” Youngjo grinned. Geonhak smiled, holding the page out to see just what kind of drawing he’d decided to give. It was a rose, growing sideways out of a rock to border the words written in calligraphy,  _ Desert Rose. _

“You know,” Geonhak began, scanning the page a few more times before meeting Youngjo’s eyes, “I like it.”

“Thank you. I thought about it really hard.”

“I could tell.”

Geonhak dropped his bags, and gave Youngjo a hug, one he readily returned along with a set of strong pats on the back. He really was going to miss him. They had each others’ numbers and everything, but he really, really,  _ really _ was going to miss him.

They pulled away, and Youngjo gave him a last pat on the arm.

“It’s been a good year,” he said, grinning. “Hope you have many more.”

Geonhak picked his bags up, laughing as he did.

“You too. Keep me updated on Woong.”

“Oh I will.”

With another wave, Geonhak opened the door and stepped out into the sweltering Nevada day. It was a day like any other, where the sun would chap your lips and burn your skin no matter how much melanin and sunscreen you had, and it was a miracle anything managed to survive under it. Yet there would always be oases like this in the desert sun, a  _ home _ for those whose roots had withered under it to be brought back to life

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Geonhak pins Youngjo’s drawing to the corkboard in his room, steps back, and smiles, thinking about that little town two hours out on the Road. He looks back at the texts Dongju sent over the past year, remembers how he’d cutely taken credit for being such a good  _ friend  _ (with added winks and nudges), texting him everyday, how mad he’d gotten when Geonhak finally told him what was wrong, about what had happened with his job (“I think I’m gonna commit murder.” “Don’t.”), but mostly, he remembers the pure relief, the sheer happiness that had come over him like a gust of wind when he’d held him. He remembers the same relief washing over his parents, and is reminded they’d rather have him here under their wing than floundering on his own.

A sigh. Like Seoho said, it hurt coming back, admitting everything. His pride’s broken for sure, and he has a long way to go to fix it and his life. It’s going to be hard, and maybe a little lonely as always, but he doesn’t have to walk the lonely road alone.

_ dongdong: _

_ hey loser _

_ we’re waiting for u outside _

_ in the kidnapper van _

_ why is seoho so weird _

_ my brain hurts can he just shut up about quantum physics for a hot sec _

_ omg keonhee’s screaming _

_ oh god youngjo and woong are making out in the car,,,,,,,, _

_ that sounds like a problem _

_ dongdong: _

_ which is why you. should. hurry. UP!!!!! _

Geonhak laughs, stuffing his phone in his pocket. Yeah, he definitely doesn’t have to walk the road alone. 

And he can stop to smell the roses along the way too.


End file.
